The Viscount and the Virgin (13 page)

He wanted to tell her to forget the Gypsy. To put it all behind her. But he had seen her face when she thought she had regained a brother she had long thought dead. To have found him, only to discover he had only revealed himself in order to declare his enmity, was not something she would get over in a hurry. ‘I won't
let
him come near you again,' he swore. ‘The man is a menace!'

He thought there was a flare of some thing mutinous in her eyes, before she subsided and said in a subdued tone, ‘I am sorry. I have caused you nothing but trouble today.'

‘Nonsense!' he rapped. Nothing that had happened today had been her fault, yet here she was, sitting with drooping shoulders, apologizing to him! When he should be the one making her feel better. She had been pushed into a marriage she had not really wanted, to a man she
had taken in dislike, only to please her family…and how had her family repaid her loyalty? Her uncle had been angry, her aunt distant, one of her step brothers had blatantly made use of the wedding break fast to suck up to Lord Ked din ton, and a half brother had emerged from his hiding place to openly declare his hatred.

‘You cannot choose your family, more's the pity,' he said, dropping a kiss on to the top of her head. ‘Just wait till you meet mine! Anyway, let us not talk about anyone else tonight. Let me tell you instead—' and he took both hands in hers, gazing straight into her eyes as he said ‘—you have done me a very great favour today.'

‘By marrying you.'

‘Well, yes. But more than that. You reminded me who I really am.'

The wounded look in her eyes turned to one of confusion.

‘Viscount Mildenhall—' he pulled a face ‘—is a…is a…' He floundered, finding it was not so easy to explain the tangled emotions that had led him to mislead members of the Ton into betraying their shallowness. ‘Well, to use your own words, a coxcomb.'

‘I don't remember,' she said hesitantly, ‘ever calling you a coxcomb.'

‘You should have! I was…I don't know.' He ran his fingers through his short, blond hair, leaving it sticking up in spikes. ‘I have been so used to being a soldier, dealing with life and death on a daily basis, that suddenly being thrust into a world that revolves around utterly trivial issues, I—' he sprang to his feet and paced away ‘—I was supposed to consider my position and not do anything to bring the title into disrepute. I got such a lecture, before coming to town, about the clubs my
brother had belonged to and the style in which he lived that I…'

‘You rebelled,' she breathed, her eyes growing round. She had wondered what on earth had happened to turn Monty, the epitome of all the manly virtues, into that dandified, rude…
angry
viscount. And he had been angry, she now perceived. All the time. Not just when she happened to cross his path.

‘Yes—' he turned and looked down at her ‘—that is exactly what I did.'

She heaved a great sigh, looking up at him enviously. ‘How I wish I could have had the courage to do that. I went the other way. I…squashed myself into the mould they tried to make for me…'

He strode back to the ottoman, grabbed her hands and tugged her to her feet.

‘When Rick told me how miserable his sister was, I wanted to rescue her…' He paused, a frown on his face. ‘Of course, I did not know she was you, but—' he squeezed her hands tightly ‘—earlier on, you said this marriage could be a new start. Oh, I know you were thinking about the mess your parents left behind them. But—' and his eyes took on an intensity that called to some thing deep inside her ‘—could it not be a fresh start for us?'

‘Us?' Her eyes were wide and misty, the way he had seen them look after he had kissed her. Her lips were slightly parted, too. His heart thudded heavily against his rib cage.

‘You and me,' he growled, scarcely resisting the urge to step forward and close the minute gap that still separated them. ‘I will never try to mould you into some
unattainable image, Midge. I shall not expect anything from you that you are not equipped to give.'

And then he traced the length of her lower lip with his forefinger.

She had the strangest urge to capture the finger between her lips and nibble at it. Her eyes flew to his. He was looking at her expectantly.

And then he smiled at her.

He was such a handsome man. Even when he was scowling, there was still some thing about the vitality of him that had made her body leap in response.

But to have the full force of that smile turned upon her…oh, it went straight to the very core of her, like a cup of hot chocolate on a bleak winter's day. Because his former words had been almost as devastating as they were heartening. Yes, he expected her to be a social disaster, but he would never hold her inability to behave decorously against her. He was prepared to accept her exactly as she was.

Just as, she suddenly perceived, he was hoping she would try to see the best in him. He wanted her to forget the vain, pompous ass who had paraded about town dripping with jewels. To look beneath the gaudy clothing and see the man he wished he still was.

‘I will always think of you as Monty, then,' she vowed.

Afterwards, she was never quite sure who had moved first. She only knew that they were in each other's arms, kissing each other as though their lives depended on it.

She no longer felt the need to hold back from him. Or pretend that she objected to the way his hands were exploring her body.

He wanted her.

Just as she was.

And for the first time in her life, she was not a bit sorry she was female. Her body, which she had so often despised, now seemed like a treasure chest, which he was unlocking, revealing unimaginable riches within.

She felt a little shy when he finally laid her on the bed, having divested her of every stitch of clothing. Blushed when he tossed aside his dressing gown and joined her.

But the feel of his hard, naked body next to hers was so delicious, the sensations he roused as he kissed and caressed her softness so powerful, they soon swept modesty aside.

When he made them one flesh, she felt complete for the first time in her life. More fully herself than she had ever dreamed she could be.

But he did not stop there. He drove her on, into new realms of sensuality that almost began to frighten her. Finally being encouraged to behave exactly as she wanted was one thing. But now she was beginning to feel as though she was almost out of control.

‘Monty!' She gasped, her eyes flying wide open. ‘I can't…it's too much…'

‘Let go,' he murmured breathily into her ear. ‘Let it happen.'

Then he raised himself up so that he could look into her face.

‘Trust me…it will be good…'

The lower half of his body ground harder against her, just where the exciting feelings were at their most intense.

That intensity swelled to a crescendo. The most
incredible pleasure she had ever known blasted through her, from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair.

‘It's happening!' she cried, in shock, clinging to his shoulders as she flew apart.

‘Oh, yes,' he groaned. ‘Yes, it is…'

Time stood still as everything shook and pulsed and throbbed.

And then they floated gently back down to earth, like the sparks after a rocket has exploded. Together.

 

As the carriage swept through the park gates and Midge got her first glimpse of Shevington Court, her stomach tied itself into a knot. Not for the first time that day, she was glad Monty had elected to ride beside the carriage. For she would have felt obliged to find something positive to say about the imposing set of stone buildings sitting on top of a rise, dominating the entire landscape. The closer they drew, and the larger she realized the place was, the greater grew her sense of in adequacy. She had never even attended a house party in a home so grand. Now she was expected to live here!

By the time the carriage drew to a halt beneath the
port cochère
Monty had already dismounted, and it was he who came to hand her out. He did not, as a footman would have done, merely extend his arm for support, but took hold of her waist and bodily lifted her to the ground.

His hands seemed to burn through the material of her coat as she recalled, with a flush, how they had felt on her bare skin the night before. But as he set about deftly straightening her skewed bonnet she began to feel annoyed. How could he remain so calm, so unmoved
by their proximity, when she was in a breath less state of arousal! It was galling to think that if he decided to kiss her, she would simply collapse back wards into the carriage, dragging him in after her, and never mind what the servants might think as she slammed the door in their faces. But of course, he did no such thing. Once he had assured himself that she was tidy, he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her up the flight of shallow stone steps to the front door.

She had to cling to his arm for support, so weak were her knees by this time. The man was a menace to female kind!

‘It's not what you would call a com fort able home,' he startled her by saying. ‘Draughty barracks of a place, positioned as it is on top of a hill. My grand father built it for show, more than convenience, I think. Good training for me, though,' he finished enigmatically, turning to eye the ranks of windows.

‘Training?' she asked.

‘Oh.' He seemed to snap back to her from far away. ‘For school. Army barracks. Bivouacking in the Pyrenees…' His voice trailed away as the immense double doors swung open as if by magic and a stately butler materialized from the shadowy interior. ‘Good day, Francis.' He nodded, then murmured into her ear, ‘Indeed, you may find that the wearing of extra petticoats may prove beneficial. I shall have to inspect the efficacy of your underwear thoroughly, every day, I should think, to make sure you don't catch cold…'

The thought of him inspecting her underwear made her go hot all over. And so she entered the imposing main hall of Shevington scarlet-cheeked, thoroughly flustered and rather aggravated with him for not only
having put her in such a state, but also for remaining completely unmoved as he did so.

A veritable army of staff, in smart black-and-gold livery, were all lined up in the hall to greet them.

She was momentarily grateful that Monty had lifted her out of the carriage and made sure she would pass muster. She would not have liked to run the gauntlet of all those curious eyes with a trailing hem or her bonnet askew.

But that brief spasm of gratitude soon passed. For rather than making any attempt to lighten the atmosphere, he stalked along at her side, his hands clasped behind his back, his face un smiling as the house keeper went through the roll call of names.

He looked, in fact, exactly like a stern major, inspecting the troops. She would not have been a bit surprised if he had straightened a footman's powdered wig or snapped at the lowly boot boy to shine up his rather tarnished buttons.

But at last, parade was over and the troops dismissed. And the house keeper, Mrs Wadsworth, gestured towards the grand sweep of the stair case.

‘Your rooms are on the west corridor,' she announced, leading the way.

‘You will never get lost,' Monty murmured in her ear as they followed her, side by side. Then he held out his hands, spreading his fingers in an elongated rectangle. ‘South front, east wing, west wing.'

‘His lordship,' said Mrs Wadsworth, flinging open a set of double doors about halfway along the corridor, ‘thought you would wish to have this set of apartments.'

‘Did he, by God,' Monty murmured to Midge, out of
the corner of his mouth, ‘you are honoured. Last time I was here, I only merited one of the guest rooms.'

‘Her Ladyship's sitting room.' The house keeper waved her arm round the room they had entered. It was a perfect square, and very green, was Midge's first impression. Pale green walls, dark green curtains and various shades of green upholstery on all the furniture. Then her eyes took in the ornately plastered ceiling, with generously proportioned picture rails below. And the almost paper-thin, floral porcelain ware that decorated every avail able surface. And the very expensive-looking carpet in the middle of the highly polished floor. And the low table positioned before the fire place, with an immense vase, from the same source as the rest of the china, squat ting on top.

It might have looked less hideous if somebody had thought to fill it with fresh flowers, but she supposed there were not many large enough, at this time of year, to do it justice.

‘Viscount Mildenhall's chamber is through that door, and yours through this one,' Mrs Wadsworth explained, pointing to two doors on opposite sides of the green room.

‘His Lordship will be along shortly to meet you and welcome you to your new home,' Mrs Wadsworth said to Midge. ‘I shall have the tea things brought up.'

Midge's anxiety level soared to new heights. She had no wish to drag the poor old earl out of his sick bed. She turned to ask Monty if he thought it might be better if they were to go to him, only to see him stalking through the door that led to his own room. She could hear him muttering to his valet, flinging open doors and slamming drawers. He was clearly not in the best of moods, for
some reason. And she did not know him well enough to know how to deal with him yet.

Not quite daring to tread on the luxurious carpeting, Midge kept to the bare boards round the edge as she made her way to the door that led to her own room.

She peeped in to see a footman depositing a trunk at the foot of the bed.

‘Not there you great lummox,' Pansy was saying scathingly. ‘Over there, by the cup boards!'

Midge's lips twitched at the sight of the brawny footman meekly doing the diminutive Pansy's bid ding, and she backed away to the relative peace of the fussily feminine sitting room.

The door to Monty's room was now closed. Well, that answered the question of whether to go and talk to him or not!